


Can you feel it?

by Qeztotz413



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/M, Jedi Hiccup, Not a film rewrite despite the first chapter, Set 5000 years before the Battle of Yavin, Slowburn Hiccstrid, Toothless isnt a dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qeztotz413/pseuds/Qeztotz413
Summary: He aimed for the outline, tracking it as it swooped towards him. He almost couldn't see it.And then…He felt something - like a gentle breeze on the otherwise still night.He felt something saying;Aim there.He closed his eyes.And before he knew what he was doing he heard a bang.And an otherworldly cry he'd never forget.





	1. This is Berk

**Chapter 1: This is Berk**

 

Hiccup woke to the sound of explosions and screaming. The glowing fires outside flickering in through his home’s timbers. With a shout he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door, scrambling down the stairs and past the mess of chairs strewn haphazardly across the room. Finding the door handle jammed he put his foot against the post and pulled with all his might to get it open in time for him to immediately push it back closed again as it flew into him with a boom, knocking him away and smashing him into the chairs.

Through the broken doorway he got a view of the village in flames, crackling and sparking up the timbers. The monster above him moved onward down the hill, seeking more fitting targets for its cannons.

Hiccup leapt out the door and started heading down after the nightmare, the smouldering remains of his hut quickly forgotten as he woke up to the morning raid.

_This is it! I can finally test my new prototype!_

He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him to the forge, as starships flew above. As he ran he caught fleeting glimpses of the village and its surroundings, the buildings backlit by the flashes of blaster fire. Every few seconds another ship would come in for an attack, firing away at the scattered villagers, their wings swept to either side, waiting until they were barely a score of feet above the ground before firing. As he skirted around the plaza at the centre of the village he saw his father in discussion with Haakon Hofferson before turning skywards and throwing his spear into the maw of an incoming ship, turning back to Haakon to conversation as the burning metal sank into the ground.

Hiccup’s father, Stoick the Vast, Stoick the Great, Stoick the Stormgiant. Gods would he love to be anyone else’s son. He would never live up to his father.

“Hoist the torches!” Hiccup heard Spitelout yell. “Move to the lower defences! Use the catapults!”

The sky awoke with a flash as the firelight reflected off the dirtied metal ships circling and attacking the village, some now careening into the cliffside above as well aimed spears and arrows found their mark.

“Glad you could finally make it lad, ye late for the party again,” said Gobber the Belch when he got to the forge, “Almost thought those Devils had carried you off.”

He glanced down for a moment at his mother’s necklace, the clear crystal flickering with the light of the hearth.

“No I’m... I’m still here," he said hesitantly.

He got to work at the broken weapons pile, sifting through and finding the swords spears and axes he could straighten and fix quickly. He had worked up a sweat and was starting on his fifth spear when a mighty crack and boom sounded from the house next door. Through the front window he could see the flames illuminate the plaza.

The village teenagers rushed to put the fire out, at their head, rushing headlong into the blaze, was Astrid Hofferson. She wore a thick leather skirt, detailed with miniature copper skulls around her waist, her blue shirt and leggings stained almost black from the soot, but her golden braided hair shimmering untouched. She held her massive doubleheaded axe in her hand and her slugthrower on her back.

She started directing the firecrews to clear the burning wreckage and extinguishing the fires raging within. Hiccup was both thankful and regretful that he wasn't allowed out there. On one hand he was by far the safest boy in the village, he wouldn't be carried off like so many before; But it also meant he never got a share of the glory that even the firecrew got.

They were almost finished putting out the blaze when a shriek sheared through the air.

“Night Fury! Get Down!”

Hiccup dove under the workbench as the shriek reached its highest pitch. A spat and wizz heralded the plasma blast which hit squarely on the fire brigade’s water bowser, making it erupt into a cloud of steam and sending the wood scything out into the teens, Fishlegs receiving a blow from a board and Gustav was hit in the leg with a shard the length of his hand. The Night Fury swung out from its dive and turned away before coming back around to engage the catapults.

A Gronckle ship hovered above the plaza its bulk 4 times the size of a house, with 4 stubby tetrahedrons held underneath it like legs from a bantha.

Above them clanking chains announced the next opponent as the tetrahedrons were dropped to the ground as the gronckle released its payload. Once the pods hit the ground their doors opened, unleashing a chattering horde of devils into the plaza, instantly they were upon the teens. They were crimson skinned, with almost human faces except for their tendrils drooping from the edges of their mouths. Their eyes a sickly yellow with no pupil or iris. They adorned themselves with copper circlets and headdresses of human hair or feathers, bands around their forearms, and ringlets pierced their noses and ears, and they wore sparse segmented bronze armour on their head and chest, elaborately detailed with inscrutable patterns.

“To the Forge! Shield wall!” yelled Astrid, gathering the teens around the entrance in a defensive circle as another Gronckle dropped a second payload down onto the lower bank.

Seeing one Devil clearly gesturing for the others to spread out, Astrid unslung her slugthrower from her back and used it to blow a hole in its head.

The roughly half the devils charged headlong into the wall, chattering insanely as they brandished wicked bronze swords. The remainder scattered across the village breaking into houses. A large group headed towards the thus far untouched paddocks, slaughtering their bantha. Three Nadders landed near the bantha and the devils grabbed barbed hooks attached to the underside of the ships and sinking them deep into the cattle's hides.

“Hold the fort Hiccup. They need two more limbs out there!” yelled gobber from the front.

Hiccup realised that this was a chance he could take.

He ran to the back of the forge and grabbed his prototype weapon, wheeling it out the side door and swiftly escaping to the highest ledge in the village.

Further down he could see the catapults hurling stones and scrap metal at the ships flying above, they very rarely hit but when they did the ship instantly went down in flames. Already he could see the wreckage from several craft had ploughed troughs in the forest below the village. As he ran he could hear his father directing the fire onto the Nadders trying to flee with their prize.

As he reached the ledge he set up the prototype, laying down its tripod, and pulling out the metal cylinder. It was as long as he was tall, with a bore the width of his hand. Close to the end there was a small hole which he poked with a sharp rod he kept with him, and an inch wide pan, into which he poured a small measure of grey powder. Finally he took one of the iron spears he’d made especially for the occasion and pushed it down the barrel.

He called it his spear thrower... Because it threw spears for him... Using the highly explosive powder they used in slugthrowers. Ok maybe it didn't so much _throw_ the spear as _send it flying faster than the eye could see_.

The easy part had been designing the thing, he simply made a larger, thicker barrelled version of a slugthrower; the hard part was knowing how much powder to use. The first time he tried it the spear didn't even budge. The second time they had to _partially_ rebuild the forge. Since then he was very careful to not over-measure the amounts.

When he got there he started to consider his targets.

Taking down a Nadder would be easiest, they were easy targets when landed, and they presented a fairly large target.

Killing a Gronckle singlehandedly would probably get him a girlfriend, they were very slow and bulky, but you couldn't get through their thick armour. He’d have to aim for the engines.

A Zippleback had twin hulls, when they landed they would deposit more devils just like the Gronckle, and they spat double the amount of blaster bolts from their two heads. If he took down one of those he’d rise to the top of the dating pool.

Nightmares were dangerous, really really dangerous. They could cover themselves in a protective blanket of lightning, anything that touched it would burn away in seconds. Only the best hooligans went after those.

But the grand prize was the Night Fury. It never lands, never misses, and never shows itself. No one has ever taken down a Night Fury.

The telltale shriek of the Fury heralded another strike on a catapult, and as it pulled away he lined up the shot using his primitive sights. He aimed right for the outline against the sky, tracking it as it swooped towards him. He almost couldn't see it, and it was clear that even if someone on the ground _could_ see the night fury it was far too quick to ever have a chance of hitting it, but he would with his new weapon.

And then…

He felt _something_ \- like a gentle breeze on the otherwise still night.

He felt at ease.

Like he knew that he would hit when he fired.

He closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath.

He felt something saying; _Aim there_.

And before he knew what he was doing he heard a bang.

And an otherworldly cry he'd never forget.

He opened his eyes and saw the Night Fury’s port engine erupt into flames.

“I did it?”

He stood frozen for a moment in shock.

All those times he’d almost blown himself up, every time he was mocked by the other villages for his ideas, it had all paid off.

“I did it! Did anyone see that?” He was exhilarated, breathless.

But before he could go into a full victory lap he was blown from his feet as a Nightmare began to hunt him. He scrambled to his feet and ran, his victory forgotten and his weapon smashed by the opening salvo.

This was his worst nightmare, he was going to get eaten by a dragon. He never should have left the forge - He never should have left the forge - He never shoul-

He ran back to the village screaming in terror, dodging blaster fire, desperately seeking cover, and finding it at the base of the torches.

His father grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him through the door of a nearby house just as the Nightmare fired into the base of the pillar, causing the torch to tilt, pieces of wood falling into the plaza.

Nearby Astrid saw the danger of the falling torch and grabbed two other villagers and together they moved to stop the torch from falling any further.

Stoick, now alone in the plaza, stood opposite the low hovering Nightmare, and stared right through its clear front into the eyes of the Devil piloting it. The Devil grinned and put his hand on something, then looking up in surprise to find the Chief running towards him.

“You’re all out.” Stoick jumped at the windscreen, planting his fist through the glass and reaching just short of the Devil. In response the ship swung around violently throwing him into the wall next to Hiccup. Then in terror it turned skywards and flew away, its backblast blew all the debris in the plaza clear outwards.

All across the village the vikings had started to wear down the Devils, and had now corralled them around the few corpses that Nadders hadn’t flown away with yet. But just as they had thought them finally trapped there was a sound of wood snapping. The lit end of the enormous torch, damaged by the Nightmare and then again by its violent takeoff, was falling off.

Astrid dived out of the way just in time, as the blazing lump fell and headed down the hill, directly for the villagers. When they dodged out the way the Devils took this opportunity to run back to the Nadders and escape with their ill gotten goods. As the last surviving ship pulled away Stoick rounded on his son.

“What the Hel were you doing!? You were told to stay in the forge, and instead you cause _this_ ,” he gestured to the devastation.

“You nearly got us all killed,” hissed Astrid.

“I’m sorry dad, I was testing the spearthrower, you were all fighting and I had a clear shot - I got a Night Fury, it crashed just north of Raven Poi-”

“Stop! Just _stop_. Every time you step outside disaster strikes. Can you not see that I have enough trouble without your weird devilry making things worse?”

“It's not devilry dad, it's just another machine like the slugthrowers. I’ll admit it took a while to get the right amount of powder but apart from that second time I haven’t even come close to blowing myself up," he lied.

Stoick looked at him with disappointment, “See _this_ , this is why I cannot trust you to be alone. Astrid, take him back home, I have to clean up his mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix:  
> Slugthrower - A gun, used before blasters became man-portable. The ones used by Berk are muzzle loading and are more similar to muskets than modern machine guns.  
> Bantha - A animal the size of an elephant, hairy like a yak, with a pair of goat horns on its head. Kept for their meat and their milk, they make adequate cattle. Berk farms them.
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> This is my first Fanfic on AO3 and i sure hope it wont be my last, but obviously there is massive room for improvement with my writing style, grammar, and plot design. It is my intent to keep the story In-character as much as possible.  
> If any reader spots any errors or OOC actions please do comment and I'll do what I can.  
> I am also looking to have maybe a couple of Beta readers, so if anyone is interested similarly comment below.
> 
> This story is meant to be about a force sensitive hiccup, his development of his powers, his emotions he has kept suppressed his entire life, and his eventual meeting with the Sith.  
> Along the way we're going to see a couple of cameos from RTTE, ROB, DOB and one or two characters from HTTYD2.  
> This will by no means be a rewrite of the first film, but there will be certain scenes that mirror or copy from HTTYD and it's media.  
> The time period for this piece is 5000 BBY or in layman's terms, five millennia before A New Hope. This is set in an alternate universe where Jori and Gav Daragon's parents never risk their last voyage. And thus the pair will never start the Hyperspace War. This is for plot convenience. They will not turn up in this novel as i have absolutely no intentions of writing a crossover. This is about Hiccup and Toothless.  
> If anyone wants to have a view of what the time period looks like then the best comic would be Tales of the Jedi: Golden Age of the Sith. This will however spoil certain sections of this fic, but not the ending. Your choice if you read or not.


	2. As scared as I was

“Come on,” Astrid said, grabbing him firmly by the upper arm. She couldn't feel any resistance, and she hoped that meant he’d learned his lesson - hopefully forever - and that he wouldn’t try to blow himself up, or try to design a new deadly weapon, or drag another obelisk to the top of the cliffs only to have it roll all they way back to the bottom. She just wanted one day where she could relax and try do something other than practice with her axe and clean up after Hiccup.

Not that she minded that much that Hiccup was an idiot. Oh no, every time he messed up it brought her one step closer to being named Heir. She just wished it wasn't her they always asked to escort him home or to the forge or sit with him at the healers. He was weird. Bad weird. He creeped her out with his little side glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking, and he always stuttered when he spoke to her (which to be fair weren't quite as bad as the lecherous looks she got from Snotlout - Ew - but she'd rather he look at anyone else instead). She didn't like being around him, but then to be fair nobody really did, not even the Blacksmith. Gobber was careful to hide it when Hiccup was around but once he was gone from the forge he would always scurry around and check that Hiccup hadn’t loosened the screws in any of the vices or accidentally forgotten a jar of explosive powder was sitting right next to the fire. He was a menace, and everyone saw it but himself. She didn't know why he was so weird, but he’d always been different. She couldn't remember what he was like as a baby but she could remember during their childhood that he’d always be crying during a raid. He’d always hide in the forge with Gobber, clutching that silly pendant of his, bawling and screaming.

She and the rest of the children had of course been armed with swords and told to protect their homes with their mothers. As they all grew Hiccup had stopped crying but still looked so very scared every raid, whilst the rest became more and more bloodthirsty. Astrid was rather proud that she’d killed her first Devil when she was ten; Hiccup hadn’t killed a single one in his entire life, despite being the son of Invincible Stoick the Vast. She didn't know what Stoick thought of his son, but she’d bet he was-

“D-disappointed. He’s ashamed of me. Y-y-you don't h-have to say it,” Hiccup interrupted her thoughts.

Wait... “What?” she asked in confusion.

“Oh like you don't know. Hiccup the U-useless, Hiccup the _Worthless_. You d-don't have to remind me of it,” he said quietly.

She relaxed her grip on him and he pulled away but kept walking alongside her. “Why can’t you just do what your father asks you?” she demanded. He was so frustrating.

“He has this unreachable goal for me. He’s told me the rock story hundreds of times.”

“What rock story?” she asked curiously.

“Y-you know, the one about him hitting a rock with his head and it breaking.”

“Wait I thought that was just a myth.”

“He’s tried to get me to headbutt a boulder since I was five.”

“Have you actually _tried_ it?”

“Oh yeah _sure_ , and then I can continue to work at the forge with no brains to use. I know how about you try it first and tell me if it works.”

She groaned. How could she have forgotten the sarcasm. As they walked through the village she received a couple of greetings from other villagers. That made her a little happier as Hiccup stayed silent for the remainder of the journey.

As they reached his house Hiccup looked a bit confused, then stopped in his tracks.

“What now?”

“I’d forgotten about that,” he said, pointing at the front of his house, the door was gone as was most of the front wall. “Should have probably told dad about _that_.”

She could feel it was going to be a long day, and it wasn't even first light.

\----

As Astrid went off to go fetch a carpenter to fix his house Hiccup was considering his options. He still had a lot of work to complete at the forge, including a presumably growing pile of damaged weapons and an insatiable demand for nails, hinges and screws for rebuilding. He wouldn't be completing those orders anytime soon, no matter how many all nighters he and Gobber pulled. There was just too much for the two of them, but no other teen wanted be apprenticed while Hiccup was around. He also had to go and clean up his prototype and track down the Night Fury. Too many tasks, he felt overwhelmed. On a whim he decided to go find the Ship first. It would of course make his father even more angry with him but honestly it was a drop in the pond at this point. His inventions would at least be taken more seriously if he brought back proof that he’d shot down the most deadly ship.

He walked behind his house to the small path leading up and over Raven point, the largest mountain in the area, rising to a height roughly 300 metres above the surrounding countryside . Amidst the sea of trees it stuck out like a wasp stinger, making it an easy landmark for the nomads to navigate towards, and its scree provided the slate the vikings used to roof their houses. The Mead Hall had actually been dug into one of the cliff faces, and other more permanent structures like the food storage and the forge were made from its stone. Raven Point was in essence, the heart of Berk.

He wasn't planning to climb the entire mountain today, so he scaled until he could see comfortably for about a mile before moving round the mountainside along a goat path. All the while he kept looking out towards were he thought the night fury would have landed. After spending nearly an hour staring into the forest he came to view the pond, the teardrop lake opposite Hooligan Village. And on the far shore he could see that a number of trees had been recently felled. He had his target. Moving as directly as he could he scrambled down the mountain and skirted the lake. The water this time of year was still cold, if not quite freezing, and wouldn't be a good idea to swim.

Once he was back in the treeline the path marked by mangled trees sloped gently uphill and then levelling out before ending at a clearing. The ground underfoot was moss skinned stone, part of the foothills of the mountain, and allowed no purchase for tree roots, a creek fed down the middle back towards the lake. At the edges a few sparse wildflowers bloomed in the cracks of the rock. On the far side of the clearing was a dark machine of scorched metal. Its two front wings were as long as a bantha, its aft wings the length of a full grown man. Along each flank an engine resembling an open maw that could swallow a man connected to a chimney exhaust. Its tail ran double the length of its wings, and were tipped with small control surfaces. A pair of spines jutting from either side of its windscreen Hiccup presumed to be its plasma throwers, and a multitude of smaller protrusions could be seen on its back. Its hull was black as night, its engines dark with soot. Hiccup could easily see why it was the perfect hunter.

He crept slowly amongst the trees until he could see more of it, and realised that it's left engine was punctured straight through by his spear, a dark fluid leaking from it like blood staining the moss black and pooling around the ship. Plucking up his courage he ventured closer towards the ship and as he neared it he noticed that there was a square hatch at the rear of the ship, and that it was open. He crept up the ramp, ever so cautious to make no sound, and took a look inside.

It was dark, there were walls covered with strange bolts or screws. Latches and levers were arrayed at the front of the ship, beside them sat a pair of chairs, in one he could see a dead devil, shorter than usual by the look of it, but still far taller than any viking. It was slumped forwards over the levers, and its neck sat at an unnatural angle. No light of life was in its yellow eyes. A second Devil lay on the metal grid floor behind the chairs. He’d killed a Night Fury.

He could feel a sense of euphoria rise within him, returning from when he’d first shot it down. He could go back to the village, bring someone - Gobber maybe - and show them the wreck. He could-

_He could ask for any hand in the village with this._

Astrid’s father would never give up on that as a bride price. Nobody had shot down a Night Fury, _let alone as their first ship_. The possibilities were immense if he could rebuild his spearthrower, he could shoot down ships during raids, and he could shoot them down reliably if his first attempt was any yardstick. _Legends_ would be written about him and his weapon. Gods above he would be a mythic figure like the first Hiccup. With one pull of a lever he’d changed his destiny.

He was pulled from his victory by the sound of scratching, and he realised with a startled jolt that it belonged to the devil lying on the floor. It was trying to pull its way towards him with its arm, failing to get any purchase, and simply scratching at the floor with its nails. Its face was fixed in a gruesome rictus, and its jolting movements Hiccup quickly got over his panic, as he realised that even though it wasn't dead, the monster was still crippled.

He pulled out his knife and leant over its body, ready to finish the job. He closed his eyes and psyched himself up, breathing quickly to get the adrenaline going.

“I'm going to kill you. I’m going to kill you and cut out your heart and take it to my father. I am a viking. _I am a viking!_ ” He opened his eyes and raised his knife.

He looked the Devil in the eye... It was scared.

How did he know that? He didn't know?

He could feel its fear. He closed his eyes again and slowed his breathing. Yes he could feel it there, a foot in front of him, as clear as day. It was scared. Of him? It was scared of him? And he was scared of it.

“I did this,” he slumped his shoulders as he realised what he’d done. He was the source of that pain. He had caused this fear and this hatred he could feel from the Devil in front of him.

He couldn't kill it. He couldn’t.

Suddenly he couldn't feel the fear anymore, couldn’t feel anything from the devil anymore, and opened his eyes, and then realised he didn't need to kill it.

 _He_ _already had_.

\----

Snotlout was in a good mood, he’d fought well against the Devils, had a laugh at Hiccup’s expense, and now Astrid had asked him personally to accompany her into the woods. Sure she was looking for Hiccup which sucked, but it was just him and Astrid and he supposed that they could have a good time talking on a wild goose chase.

They were talking about the solstice coming up in a week’s time. On a Hooligan’s 15th summer solstice they officially became an adult, and a rite of passage was held where each young adult would display their achievement for the tribe to see. Traditionally this was done with the skulls of any devils and a piece of any ship they’d brought down. This year Astrid was set to bring over six score skulls to the ceremony, which would be a new record (she was also having to have her younger brothers help her carry the skulls in on a cart). But no-one would be bringing any ship parts, although not for lack of trying by Astrid and Snotlout. He’d lost more than his fair share of spears trying to bring one down these last few raids as they approached the deadline.

Snotlout was second this year with three score and seven skulls, which was a good thing too, as the ceremony also served a second purpose, and one he was way more interested in. Since they were now adults they were eligible for marriage, and the ceremony presentation was a good way to show the skill and therefore the prosperity of any potential suitor. While not every couple was made immediately after the solstice, there was a good reason why most firstborn children were born in late spring. And Snotlout fully intended to ask for Astrid’s hand at the first opportunity, and who could deny him? He was far the best pick, handsome, athletic, gorgeous, strong, body like a god. What wasn't to like? And best of all, he was set to be the next chief. Oh sure Hiccup was still the heir in name for now, but on the solstice, when he had nothing to offer his ancestors he was certain that he’d be disowned. Nobody had ever offered nothing and he had a feeling he was going to enjoy watching the results come in. Of course others were obviously trying to take the chiefdom, _chief_ among them Astrid, but he was the nephew of the current chief, and that trumped any amount of skulls she could bring to the table. She was also a girl and nobody thought girls would make good leaders, that was laughable, although Snotlout was considering making her his general when he became chief, because she had a good aim and was rude in battle.

So yeah Snotlout was pretty pleased with himself, everything was going his way and all he had to do now was wait a week and he’d have it all; Adulthood, the Heirdom, and the GIrl. There was perhaps one tiny problem.

When a villager became an adult they had the option of going on a journey to discover themselves. Mostly these vision questers went with the nomad caravans that gathered for the solstice and lasted about a year, travelling to other settlements and learning more about the world, and hopefully discovering whatever answer they were seeking. Other times the quester wandered off into the woods, presumably to eat forest mushrooms or something, and contemplate their question. Those could sometimes last decades before they returned to the village, despite only travelling such a short distance. Sometimes people left with the caravans, or wandered into the woods, and never returned. Wherein lay his potential problem, and the subject of their conversation.

“So have you made a decision yet?” he asked her.

“No. I don't know Snotlout. I want to go see what else is out there, beyond Berk, but at the same time I feel a great duty towards the village. The raids have been getting worse and I don't know if I can justify leaving if it puts everyone else in danger.”

“No Babe you should definitely stay, it's all you need. Beyond Berk is nothing, we’re the pinnacle of culture. All the traders say it; why else would we be the most raided village we know about? Hopeless doesn't even have half the number of Bantha we do. And we need you, you’re like the second best Devil slayer out there. Stay. You don't need anything else.”

She was nodding lightly to what he said, and seemed to be seriously considering it. He fought to keep a smile off his face.

“Well Snot I wish I had your confidence. But every time I think about leaving I feel... guilty... And every time I make up my mind to stay I feel empty, hungry... like I’ll never be satisfied just staying here... Like I’m missing something,” she said tiredly.

She stared up at the midday sun in contemplation.

“Maybe you just need to look for someone. Y’know instead of something you're missing, maybe it's someone,” he ventured. He immediately regretted it as she looked at him scathingly.

“Hmmph. Lets just find Hiccup.”

From then on they walked in silence, trying to comb the inscrutable woods for a boy that may or may not be there. They walked for hours, having left at midday, scouring the woods for any sign of him, just as they were about to give up home they stumbled upon him just as the shadows were growing long.

He almost walked straight into them, coming out from the thick brush near where Astrid guessed was somewhere around the pond, and they immediately grabbed him.

“Oh hey guys,” he said begrudgingly, “I’m ready to go back, you can let go.”

“No way am I falling for that again. You ran on me this morning. And nobody runs from me,” Snotlout guessed Astrid was still livid about after the raid. Noted down for later: future wife holds grudges, nasty temper.

“We’re taking you back to the Chief. He wants a word,” added Snotlout.

“Good," he said. Did Snotlout detect a hint of sadness there? "Because I have a couple of things to say to him too.”


End file.
